Monday, June 07, 2010

White Sunday VIII

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prayer
is not wasted on your soul
pain
that tried to wrest from you control

of all my fervent promises unbound
in all the sacred travesties I'd found

blood
becomes proof of truth and light
touch
that communicates the night

in all the eloquences I must speak
in the moments before I become too weak

kiss
with a purpose and release
dream
and may you find love and joy and peace


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Um, guys? There now 8 of these...

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    Explaining the Tags

    You will note, gentle reader, that all works under this blog now display "tags" to help classify and assign the works for your review and enjoyment.

    These largely fall into 4 categories:

    Year of writing, e.g. "1999"
    Book published in, e.g. "from an unexpected quarter"
    Inspiring muse, e.g. "Aubergine"
    Genre, e.g. "erotica"

    We are still in the process of cleaning up the tags, so please bear with us. Yes, some muses are classified under more than one tag, some poems appear in more than one book, or not yet in any volume, and some years are...hazy.
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